Boeuf en Caisse Quelle Surprise & My Birthday Preparations Part Three

This cat week my blog has been written from a…from a…I can’t bring myself to say it without shedding a cat tear, dear readers…from a…I can’t! I will just tell you the true and precise events running up to what has happened to me while I compose myself.

Wanting to flex my culinary baked beans I decided to challenge myself  by making a recipe called Boeuf en Caisse Quelle Surprise. But, during the preparation I realised it was too advanced for my dear readers so I have simplified it for you all. Not only that but it takes so long to make I became bored very quickly. I had to wear two pink ruffles, one around my estomac and the other around my genius tete because it caused me to sweat, what with all the snipping and cutting of the boeuf dear readers. Also, when I am being creative I do not wish to be disturbed and I had constant knockings at my door, so I did. Very irritating knockings which would push anyone over the edge, so they would…

I ignored the first few tappings from Hugo because I just couldn’t bear the thought of being audibly abused. Then Mr. Pig took it upon himself to walk in unannounced and Hugo followed; I can see I’m going to have to get an intercom like the ones people have in London. Grappling with the excavation of my boeuf, I was in no mood for a barbeque stained Mr. Pig. Environmental Health sent him back and have banned me from writing or contacting them in any way ever again. Apparently all 178 of my complaints have been fictitious ramblings, their words not mine, dear readers and they have issued me, yes me dear readers with a restraining order. They’ll be sorry when people begin choking on guinea pig hairs and claws or fainting because their chow mein is cold or they received the wrong order. But this was the least of my worries, so it was…

Having ‘jammed’ Hugo through my letter box (his goblet facing outside) I turned my irritations to Mr. Pig. Gracie was busy with my party planning for my birthday which is on the 17th March. Even though I have asked her to organise it all in order to relieve me of the stress I have still given her a list of errands I want her to achieve. So, whilst she was busy training the guinea pig commune to provide me with  a circus show, it left me free to deal with Mr. Pig. Because he had to be dealt with, dear readers otherwise he’ll never learn…

I had excavated my Boeuf en Caisse and decided not to take the recipe any further. Having tired myself making it hollow I had eaten the onions, olives and mushroom filling for sustenance. For those of you who don’t know what Beouf en Caisse is, it’s basically a large piece of meat hollowed out in the shape of a book, filled with yummy eats, tied with string and baked in the stove. I had got as far as the book stage…

I ‘tucked’ Mr. Pig into his new beouf book bed, tied it ‘snug’, hung him on a tent pole in front of a small gas fire, (She’s handy man, Mr. Christopher has some very useful equipment in his shed) and left him to ‘brown’. There were no witnesses and I’ve told him if he dares to mention it to the GPAA it’ll be my honorary word against his wittering. Gracie enjoyed the beouf kebab later that evening but discarded the Quelle Surprise. All he’d been good for was flavouring the beef with his barbeque wafting stained skin.

If you would like to make Boeuf en Caisse Quelle Surprise, I suggest you buy a ready made Meatloaf which is much easier to hollow out. Fill it with croutons and red wine, cover with the meatloaf lid and bake in the stove. Ta da, Boeuf en Caisse ne pas Quelle Surprise unless of course you often have barbeque stained guinea pigs at your disposal. This is a much tastier and an easier version to make. I am thinking of talking to my Literally an Agent about writing a book filled with simplified Out Cuisine because I seem to have a flare for these genius ideas.  I think the people from French would be very impressed with me, so they would. Not everyone has the baked beans as I do to create such complicated dishes. But none of this will be possible if I don’t get out…from where I am…through no fault of my own…

This is when disaster struck dear readers. The following cat morning, Mr. Pig, who I want to make clear was unscathed from his beef style sun tan bed, brought round a present for me for my birthday which is on the 17th of March. It was a box all wrapped in pretty paper and a large ribbon. He said I had to open it when I was on my own but before my birthday on the 17th of March. He told me it was a very special gift and that’s why I had to have it early. My curiousity caused me to open it as soon as he’d gone and to my onde de choc he had wrapped and parcelled up Chelsea, Sharon and Tyrone and left a note asking me to take care of them because he and Mrs. Eileen Pig needed a break and seeing as I am, after all their ‘Uncle’, I should take responsibility. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I did what I would do with any unwanted gift that arrived without a receipt, I put it in the poubelle boite and continued with my day. I had two episodes of Crossroads to watch on the picture box and my curried spam fritters (I’m still having cravings and Sid from India is closed until further notice) were getting cold. After this I went to my GPAA meeting, I wasn’t hurting anyone, I hadn’t ‘punted’, ‘duffed’ or ‘tapped’ Mr. Pig in any way for the terrible gift he’d sent me, althought I now wish I had. To my utter disbelief, dear readers I was arrested at the GPAA meeting by the Do Goody Yippety Hippety Yap Brigade. I, dear readers have written this from a…from a PRISON CELL! Not only that but I had to use cat loo paper to write on so that She could collect it during a prison visit in order for her to write it up on my flap top. They don’t even care it’s my birthday on the 17th of March. So MY party may go on without me, dear readers. Apparently I’m being charged with guinea pig cruelty under the guinea pig laws. And I have come to the conclusion this is a set up by Mr. Pig and his faux presents! He is jealous of me and the fact it’s MY birthday and everyone is throwing me a huge party.

Anyway, I don’t have to dash this cat week, dear readers because I am shut in a four walled wee wee smelling box but I will go because my baked beans are hurting from writing. Gracie has promised to get me out before my birthday party which is on the 17th of March, so it is.

Your bestest fluff

Wilfred.

Piss. S. If I wasn’t locked up Mr. Pig would be suffering code number 224 of the Guinea Pig Anger Management Code book which involves a makeshift pair of mini skis, a piece of rope, a toilet brush holder and an electricity cable. I can but dream from my cell, dear readers…